Before And After
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: MSA oneshot based on the prompt: Arthur and Dead or Alive Lewis hanging out. Well, both. Both is good.


How did it get to this?

Arthur pounded on the table with one hand, flinging the other out wide to flag down a Pepper—any Pepper on duty—except the one sitting across from him, laughing.

Lewis reached across the table, pinching the stem of a half-bitten Bhut Jolokia and wiggling it free of Arthur's sandwich. "What's wrong, Arthur?" he snickered. "Thought you liked a little spice in your life." He popped the rest of the pepper in his mouth.

Arthur wheezed, grabbing his sandwich and dumping the contents. Jamming the bread in his mouth, he reached for his water glass and tried to get in a few gulps between chomping through the slices. As Mrs. Pepper passed, he flung an arm out, beseeching her, sweat running down his face.

Flashing a stern glance at Lewis, Mrs. Pepper wheeled about and hurried for the kitchen. Arthur continued to drain his water glass, now chomping on the ice for relief.

"You know you had it coming." Lewis folded his hands behind his head, leaning back.

Arthur _did_ know. The last prank had escalated things. He'd released a traveling alarm clock into Lewis' room while he slept, programming it with songs Lewis hated. That wouldn't have been so bad, except the alarm clock had been extra nimble and seemed to sense whenever Lewis dived for it. It wound up escaping into the hall and rousing Lewis' three little sisters in a never ending round of "Let It Go" and "Everything Is Awesome."

Even that wasn't terrible, except the alarm clock live-streamed the harrowing chase to Arthur, who then sent the footage of half-awake Lewis stumbling around in his underwear to Vivi.

Arthur absolutely knew he deserved this, but gods it burned! And it would burn on the way out, too. He was in for several hours of misery at this rate. He dearly hoped that once it was over he would still claim it was worth it. At the moment, he wasn't so sure.

A pitcher of milk landed in front of him and he scooped it up without hesitation, pouring it into his scorched mouth. It drenched the front of his shirt and puddled in the seat around him.

"Lewis Pepper," Mrs. Pepper said sternly. "You'll be cleaning up this booth when he's through."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur caught sight of Lewis nodding his head, the grin still plastered on his face. He didn't seem to care.

 _Jerk._

But the thought came with a playful bite to it. As the milk took the worst of the edge off his pain, gears in Arthur's head were already turning. Churning for ways to up the ante, really catch Lewis off guard and turn the tables.

Once Mrs. Pepper had left, Lewis leaned over and picked up his phone from the table. "That's some footage, Artie. You might even go viral. If I get to a million views, I'll make you another sandwich to say thanks. How 'bout it?"

 _Ohhhhhh it's so on._

Arthur spewed a mouthful of milk at Lewis, tearing out of the booth and running for the door.

He barely made it to the sidewalk before Lewis wrapped giant arms around him, crooking his neck in a headlock. "Come on, I got you. Now say uncle."

"Unnnk!"

"That's not saying uncle."

"Ca't say et, mah tong too beg."

"Oh. Guess that would make it hard." Lewis released him, still grinning. "Still, that counts."

Arthur stuck his tongue out, prodding the swollen thing gently. Crying "uncle" meant there was a 24-hour ceasefire on pranks, giving both sides time to recuperate and prepare. This streak had been going on for two weeks, the longest one yet. Arthur hoped he'd be able to come up with something really good soon. He wasn't about to play second fiddle to anyone, not even his best friend.

"Listen, I gotta go back in to clean up your mess. Lunch is on me. Consider it a gesture of goodwill for your stupid mistake." Lewis swept a solemn bow.

Arthur rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Right now, Lewis was being a literal pain, but he liked being able to mess around. Neither of them could mess with Vivi quite the same way. Each member of the group had a different dynamic with each other, and the micro-wars with Lewis was his thing. Something he'd never get tired of.

He trudged off down the street. Lewis' downfall would be epic. Unforgettable. The pinnacle of all pranks. It was just a matter of timing.

….

How did it get to this?

Arthur cradled his prosthetic, cupping the elbow joint and allowing the wrist to rest in the crook of the opposing arm. He counted the lines segmenting the pavement under his feet in time with the stars pounding at the edges of his vision.

Stupid to have left the pills at home. Stupid to have skipped last night. Stupid to bull his way through a full day at the shop just so he didn't make Uncle Lance worry or set Vivi off. Why did it have to be _their_ van in the shop today? You just couldn't shake Vivi once she got worried, so he had to push through to closing time.

And now Lewis trailed him, watching. Arthur could hear the footsteps, but it was just a careful simulation on Lewis' part. The day was warm and, as Arthur felt no spine-crawling horror, he assumed Lewis was keeping the necessary distance. The team hadn't yet found a way to counteract the chilling aura Lewis had, but as long as he kept two feet between himself and others, simulated the proper walking noises, didn't talk, and never looked anyone in the eye, he could just pass for living.

One month since they'd found him again. Not nearly enough time to settle Arthur's nerves regarding the… the _incidents_ that brought them back together. Fire was banished from his presence and he still wasn't able to drive on the freeway. Too many semi-trucks.

They both had Vivi to thank. Vivi, who saved Arthur's life long enough for them all to hash out the details of what had happened and, in the process, kept Lewis from shedding innocent blood and damning himself to a tormented existence.

Arthur hunched over as the pain stirred up nausea. Funny, he didn't feel innocent. Having Lewis rejoin them for however long the afterlife allowed was no help. It only dug spikes into Arthur's conscience. How much of forgetting his pills was lapse and how much intention? He wondered if it even mattered.

He blinked. He was on his knees, now, his vision swimming. It was getting bad. Croaking, he reached a hand out as the pavement rushed to meet him.

Warmth. He blinked. Everything had changed around him. A thick quilt tucked his trembling limbs together. He sat in something large and soft—a beanbag? But a moment before he'd been on a sidewalk—

 _Ah._

Wrinkled purple-striped wallpaper and aged wood plank flooring. A pink-and-purple runner flung to the right and left as far as the eye could see. Arthur's mouth was dry. He hadn't been in Lewis' mansion since he had run for his life down this very hallway.

A small pink ghost zoomed into his line of sight, skidding to a halt midair and shaking an object in its little nubs. It sounded like a maraca, rattling around as the ghost tossed it at Arthur. Fully swaddled, he couldn't catch the little bottle that smacked his cheek and tumbled down to catch in a quilt fold.

A little orange tube with a scrawled note at the bottom.

A second ghost swooped in with a water bottle, chittering angrily at the first, which drooped sadly. The first ghost retrieved the pill bottle, attempting to finagle the childproof cap.

The second ghost managed better with the water bottle cap, gingerly placing the opening against Arthur's lips and pouring when he opened his mouth. He drank, grateful. The pain still throbbed with every heartbeat, but the nausea died down some.

The first ghost whined, unable to get the cap off. From the shadows behind it, a pair of large, bone-plated gloves reached out, plucking the bottle from its grasp. With great care, they squeezed the cap and twisted it off, returning the tube to the pink ghost. Noticeably encouraged, the ghost pulled out two pills and swooped in to place them on Arthur's tongue.

Lewis was getting better at managing them.

Another splash of water and the pills went down. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, taking measured breaths through his nose. It would take time for the pain to go away.

Weight settled in his lap, a furry head butting up under his chin. Somewhere an instrument began tuning itself. Arthur managed to open his eyes again, his vision tilting for a moment before things came into focus.

Mystery sat in his lap, leaning against his chest. Lewis perched on the shoulder of a suit of armor, at an angle no human could pull off, testing the strings of a violin. Lewis' eyes flicked to his for a moment, glowing pink irises set in empty hollows, before he shut his eyes and set bow to strings.

They barely talked anymore, so Arthur had gotten used to guessing the answers to his own questions. If there was going to be a murder, Lewis wouldn't have invited a witness. Mystery had likely been invited to set his mind at ease.

Not Vivi. God love her, she couldn't stop talking these days, as if the silence was something alive waiting to swallow her up the second she stopped running from it. The less Lewis and Arthur talked, the more she filled in the gaps.

Words grated these days. There wasn't a single word to capture what Arthur wanted to say when he actually wanted to try. Phrases fell flat, sounding trite and hollow in his mind. He didn't want to flail in the face of Lewis' silence, stumbling all over himself for a way to decode his brain into coherent communication.

But Lewis had a cheat. He could put his thoughts into music. For now, the music spoke of safety, of concern and a watchful care. Arthur envied him briefly before stretching his muscles and relaxing into the wrappings as much as he could. The violin soothed his mind, giving him something to focus on besides his own whirling thoughts and the pain.

Time slipped by, and his body's perpetual shock over the loss of a limb faded as the medication kicked in. The music came to a close as well. Lewis allowed the violin to vanish into the air, staring off down the hall and drumming his fingers absently on the suit of armor's helmet. He glanced once more toward Arthur.

"That was a stupid mistake," he said.

Arthur swallowed, nodding once.

"Lucky you only had one prescription for them," he gestured at the pink ghosts, "to find at your place."

The sharp words spiked his adrenaline, the hellish duotone of Lewis' voice awakening flight instincts. The terror Lewis' voice and aura invoked were not his fault, Arthur told himself. He struggled to squash his fears, focusing on Mystery. The rise and fall of Mystery's chest was a calm breathing pattern to copy.

A long sigh issued from Lewis as he drifted down from the suit of armor, settling himself cross-legged on the ground opposite Arthur and his beanbag.

"He's concerned, you know," scolded a cultured female voice. "He sees the effect these 'mistakes' have on you, then I can hardly keep this mansion presentable. Everything goes to pieces!"

Ah. The reason Lewis had placed him in the hall now unfolded. Arthur sneaked a glance at the portrait who had spoken. She was a prim and proper painting of a highborn lady in purple. The other three portraits in the hall—a lucha wrestler, a priest, and judge—were composed and unmoving for now.

Lewis drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Was he trying to look smaller?

"The opposite of love is not hate." The lady stilled as the priest threw his arms wide, his voice booming down the hall. "Nay, the Word says the opposite of love is fear. Fear stills the heart, brings the blood to freeze, stills action. Fear would root out every speck of brotherhood, let not the cold dark of terror take hold of you!"

Arthur's mouth dropped open, but the Priest had folded his arms back over his book. Now the judge peered out at him, eyes narrow.

"The limits of the law are understood full well. He sees every line drawn, razor sharp. Your distance is punitive, the newest in a trail of unintended consequences."

A lump swelled in Arthur's throat. Nearly a month of silent tension between them and then… this?

He gathered his words carefully, clearing his throat a few times so he could squeeze them out correctly. "I… Lewis… I wish things could go back to normal. But… fear is kind of built into what you are now. And stuff you did and stuff I did…" He swallowed again, the words coming with difficulty. "How do we even move past that? I don't know how to do 'normal' with you." His vision blurred as he managed, "I wish I did. I miss you."

Lewis lifted his head, his eyes a fraction wider. He shifted his gaze, tilting his head as if considering Arthur's words. The portraits exchanged glances, at a loss until the wrestler tapped the judge on the shoulder, whispering past his frame. The judge raised an eyebrow, nodding, and the wrestler slammed his hands on the bottom of his frame, leaning out into Arthur's face.

"You don't know how to get back to normal, eh? Well I've got a start! How about a rousing round of chess?"

The priest and the highborn lady both looked at the wrestler, as incredulous as Arthur felt.

"Since…" Arthur swallowed, clearing his throat. "Since when do we play chess? Even once…?"

Lewis shrugged his massive shoulders, unfolding a little.

"Come on, man!" The wrestler slapped the edge of his frame. "It's a starting point. If you don't know how to get back to the old normal, let's start a new normal. Something low-key, yeah? Can't get too fired up over a game of chess."

Admittedly, Arthur couldn't argue with that. He struggled to free an arm as a chessboard materialized between them. White on his side, black on Lewis'. An egg timer floated next to the board, sand running from the top to the bottom, and the setup drifted toward Arthur.

He reached over Mystery to grab a pawn, but his fingers passed through. Blinking, he tried again. No dice.

"Um. Lewis?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow at him.

Arthur swiped his hand through all the pieces on his side. They didn't so much as flicker.

The sand in the egg timer ran out. It flipped over and the board moved back over to Lewis. Lazily, he reached out and moved a pawn one space forward, allowing a clear path for his bishop to escape. The board drifted back to Arthur as the egg timer flipped once more. Lewis gestured to the board, a dry expression on his face.

Oh. _Oh._

Arthur made one more attempt to grab his pieces. Any piece. But not one of them moved. 'New normal.' Sure. Lewis had gone straight back to old normal without skipping a beat. The corner of Arthur's mouth turned up.

Lewis' expression turned absolutely smug as the board returned to him, and over the course of the next ten minutes he picked Arthur's defenses bare and checkmated the king at his leisure.

By the time Lewis had finished, the gears in Arthur's head were turning. He'd have to get Vivi in on it, but he could pull off something to top this. Lewis couldn't be heard over the phone, now. If he could casually put Lewis in the position of being the only person to pick up for an important call… or get ahold of some of those charms Vivi had been researching. Nothing too heavy, but perhaps he could get Lewis a wardrobe modification. Perhaps a lovely evening gown.

Two little pink ghosts unwrapped him from the quilt, helping him to his feet.

The highborn lady called, "Your presence is most welcome, and we are glad to host you, however it has been some time since you left for your home and Mr. Kingsmen is concerned. He has contacted Vivi, of course, who is now attempting to summon Lewis for reckoning. We hope you understand if you are ejected onto your front porch. Oh, but we would be happy to make you a sandwich should you come knocking again."

Lewis and the lady swept simultaneous bows as the hallway dissolved around Arthur. He held onto Mystery and they landed sprawling on Arthur's front porch.

 _Oh. It is so on._

….

 **Note:** Merry Christmas to Vampiremell on Tumblr! This was a oneshot secret santa for msaholidayspirits and it was a pleasure to participate. I hope your Christmas was a warm and loving one, Vampiremell, and I wish you a gentle, peaceful new year. My thanks to saltycandyninja and the admin of The Rise and Fall of Nickelodian FB page for helping beta this and keep me from steering, uh, too much in my usual direction of writing.


End file.
